


Soft

by jencsi



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22240978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jencsi/pseuds/jencsi
Summary: It's the little things and moments they love.
Relationships: Julie "Finn" Finlay/Nick Stokes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Soft

They are quiet, faint, still.

It’s her hair, the way it falls to her shoulders, illuminating her face. How messy and tangled it gets. His hand smooths it slowly, starting at her warm forehead, caressing back until he has run his fingers through every strand. He smiles when a stubborn single strand or curl falls. He tucks it behind her ear with one finger, savoring the shiver she cannot control when he is this soft with her.

The sheets they lay on are cool, flowing, delicate. It’s her hand tucked under the pillow, her head turned to the side, comfy, unbothered, pure. It’s both her hands curled up gingerly on the wrinkled sheets, fingers outstretched, close to touching his but barely reaching. He likes the space between them because it gives her an excuse to wiggle her way over to him, half asleep, closing that space when her fingers finally touch his arm, relieved.

Her sighs turn whisper light, intoxicating, luring him into slumber with her. Drugs don’t touch him the way she does, hypnotizing him with her stillness and sleep. She is chronically tired, and it soothes him, settling with her in this soft bed, floating, falling, both. They are slow rhythmic breathing, deep in sleep, lulled.

Her head rests on his chest, putting pressure there, that’s how he knows he’s alive. He can feel his heart pound faster. She whispers to him, wanting him to relax, burying her face in the crook of his neck, laying her hand flat on his chest to feel his heartbeat and soothe him at the same time. The feel of fabric from their clothes adds to their softness and keeps them warm. She raises her hand which is tucked into the sleeve of her favorite hoodie, caressing his cheek with her hand wrapped in that cotton sleeve. He turns his head, leaning into the affection. She lets a single finger trail along under the collar of his shirt, skimming across bones, caressing his neck, now it’s his turn to shiver. She nuzzles into his neck, her hair tickling him. Her softness lifts his soul, carrying him off like a cloud to her world which is full of love and compassion. She wants to be closer to him, if that’s even possible at this point, fusing their bodies together under the covers. She slips her hand into his, intertwining their fingers, making sure to trace over the lines on his palm before she closes her hand around his, tight, secure.

His hand comes to rest on her stomach, laying flat, feeling each breath she takes. He is gentle, like a pillow, the pressure soft and smooth. When he moves his hand, lifting the hem of her shirt slowly, her breathing changes, she holds it, biting her lip, bracing for the contact. The fabric of her shirt moving slowly against her skin is maddening, slow, soft, tickling. His fingers graze her stomach, slow, smooth. He traces a pattern on her bare skin, moving up and down, left and right, fluttering lightly, playfully. She’s shivered too many times to count and her giggles are irresistible. He’s wandering, lazily, over every ticklish spot with ease. She’s too enthralled by his touch to move or protest, save for those quiet giggles, delicate shivers and quick, rapid squirming, the coolness of the sheets on her bare skin only heightens the softness of this tender moment.

He could stay like this all night with her, caressing her stomach, counting the goosebumps on her skin, scratching lightly on her tender sides, trailing circles over her delicate hips, sliding up and down her rib cage, tapping along her waist, watching her melt into the bed, those giggles just as soft as everything they share together in this quiet space. He stops in between this ticklish journey to pepper soft kisses on her stomach. His beard tickles her skin instantly and she squirms more, laughing loud, hearty, full.

She loses her willpower, whispering quietly for mercy, even that tone is soft and sweet. He listens, shifting her back into his embrace, letting his hand linger on her stomach, unable to resist savoring the softness of her skin, even if it drives her crazy. She’s warm, her cheeks are red from laughing, she’s adorable, ticklish, pure.

Any softer and they might as well be butter, melting into each other’s comforts and affections. She calms him, he makes her laugh. Her soul settles when she’s with him, he shows her the simplicity of touch. It will be morning when they find each other, savoring more softness together, sleepy, still, soothed.


End file.
